


The Fairest Of Them All

by accio_spaceman



Category: Much Ado About Nothing - Shakespeare
Genre: Alcohol, Drunkenness, F/M, Tatennant Multiverse, sounds very serious but it really just pure fluff, very brief mention of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:34:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23400040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accio_spaceman/pseuds/accio_spaceman
Summary: Benedick’s tipsy ramblings bring an unexpected moment of sincerity.
Relationships: Beatrice/Benedick (Much Ado About Nothing)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	The Fairest Of Them All

“Nay, Beatrice,” Benedick leaned heavily on his wife’s shoulder as she guided his stumbling into their chamber, “I protest, thou art the fairest lady in all the land!”

The lady in question snorted in derision.

“If I be the fairest in all the land, it is a mystery no longer that men doth take their refuge at sea! Such fortune it then is that Cupid hast them bound – else my kinswoman would too be forced to seek refuge, but I fear theirs may lay beneath the waves. Nay, ‘tis not so! Thy drink dost obscure thy vision, my Lord.”

Benedick frowned as he tried – and failed – to follow Beatrice’s words, only succeeding in grasping the final sentence of her declaration.

“Nay, ‘tis true! Thou would doubt mine word?”

“I dost trust thy word as far as I dost trust thy memory! That is, I trust thou remembers whose bed dost await you at home.”

That accusation at least cut through the mead-induced fog.

“Dost mine lady truly think of me so ill? That I would forget her majesty at the first sight of a pretty face?”

Beatrice gasped, feigning shock. Toying with Benedick’s unusually dull wits was such fun.

“Is mine face not pretty enough to turn thy head? Or dost it merely lack the ability to retain thy gaze?”

Benedick tripped over himself, literally and figuratively, in his haste to apologise. Beatrice was immediately at his side to steady him, allowing him the opportunity to grasp her face within his hands and cradle it not quite as softly as he would have done had he been sober.

“My love, thou dost twist my word! Thy face be-est the fairest face I hath ever laid eyes upon. Thy face is as Helen’s – no, _Aphrodite’s!_ – was to Paris.”

Beatrice was caught up in sincerity in Benedick’s gaze, but managed to break the trance enough to raise a single eyebrow.

“Thou should be careful with thy vows, lest they offend Athene. Messina would not thank you if thou were to invite a Trojan army.”

Benedick frowned again, casting Beatrice face aside suddenly and swaying dangerously in the opposite direction. Waving an arm that his wife had to duck to avoid, he decided;

“Peace, my lady! Thy wit is too sharp for mine tonight; indeed I am heavy in the cups. Let us rest now, and tomorrow I shall attest your beauty to all.”

“I think thou attested it well enough in the tavern this evening, Benedick. But rest; let the morning come, so I may remind you of thy words anew.”


End file.
